


You've Got Me Stuck(y) To Where I'm Sitting Looking At Your Eyes

by Horror_Trash_Child



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Puns, Drama, Drinking, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Hydra, Intimacy, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, PTSD, Tags will be updated as the story progresses, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, eventual gay sex of the kinky variety, gay relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7769194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Horror_Trash_Child/pseuds/Horror_Trash_Child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU! Where Bucky is an under-appreciated interviewer who actually cares about the world, working for Hydra & Co. After being forced to interview the well known Captain America, he realises that maybe America's golden boy isn't as commerical as he is made out to be. </p><p>Soon enough, Bucky is the only interviewer Steve will agree to meet with. Emotions develop, drama ensues, and Steve helps Bucky become a happier and more stable person. Eventual happy ending, I promise. </p><p> </p><p>Beware of the terrible puns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frozen Hearts & Mug Analogies

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story that isn't a One-Shot. Go easy on me. I do not know how many chapters this will entail, we'll see as we go along. 
> 
> In the mean time I am taking requests for one shots. If you would like one just leave it down in the comments. Stucky, Thorki, Etc. Does not have to be Marvel characters.
> 
> I don't know how often i'll update but i'll try to keep it frequent!
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely day/night, hope you enjoy! Xoxo
> 
> ~ "If I can not move Heaven, I will raise Hell".

"Barnes! Interview in fifteen!".

 

Bucky sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and pulling at his cheek slightly in frustration until his eye drooped a little, plastering on a fake smile and spinning around in his office chair to face Pierce. Fuck, he loathed his boss from the deepest pits of purgatory, but it wasn't worth his monthly salary to open his cocky mouth to the ageing man. "I thought I wasn't to be booked for another until Monday?" He asked exasperatedly, tacking on a " _sir_ " and hating himself even more for being a suck up. 

 

"Well I changed my mind" he barked back, leaning his beefy left arm on the top of Bucky's cubicle and not even bothering to lower his voice. "Look" Alexander grunted, "it's this Steve Roger's fellow, the studio has been trying to book him now for a solid three months. The fucker mustn't have realised how persistent we are. Captain America is a big fish for this company, and it's worth more than my pay- never mind _yours_ \- to let the line sink into the water on this one. We need this scoop, Barnes, and you're going to do it". 

 

With that he pushed off of Bucky's white washed cubicle wall and started walking away, allowing the brunet to drop his smile and ask "but why me?". "He's fucked up from the war too. Just flash him that freaky ass gun of yours and he'll get those stupid sympathy eyes like when he pretends to give a shit about victims" he called back, opening the door to his office with an "I may not like the guy, but he's a good actor. And don't be late!". 

 

Bucky groaned loudly, wincing when a standard yellow pencil flew past his head in the direction of Pierce. He still wasn't great with his reflex responses, but he couldn't be held accountable for that. Spinning back around and crossing his legs at the ankles he spotted Natasha, poised with yet another number two pencil in her hand, aiming for the kill. "Drop it, Nat. He isn't going to suddenly convert into a generous loving family man from a single pencil throw" Bucky sighed, grabbing an elastic from his desk (which he usually reserved for **pinging** at Natasha when she spoke out of turn) and gathering up the ratty strands of his hair, tightening it into a messy bun. He really needed to take a day off the get a haircut. 

 

"Are you underestimating my skills as a marksmen, James?" The feisty red head smirked, chewing on the end of the pencil and making a disgusted face when the rough edge of the rubber rubbed against her tongue, dropping it to the ground carelessly. "No, I'm underestimating your intelligence. You need this job as much as I do, and after _that_ " he said, pointing to the discarded pencil, "I'm guessing it's not so much underestimating as overestimating, sweetheart". 

 

Natasha rolled her eyes, her signature move, with a mumbled "whatever, Barnes. Just try to keep your discontent for this guy on the down low. You need this, you know?" Her voice dipped towards sympathy towards the end as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth, looking sideways at Bucky. It was true, he needed a big pay story. 

 

He was one of the only people on this 'team' that gave a shit about the world and it's economy, refusing generic stories about the latest trending hairstyle in the U.S. and spending half his time screaming blue in the face and kissing Alexander's ass to cover a piece on New Zealand. On Afghanistan, on local Veterinarian charities, on the newest Stark invention geared towards solving the consequences Howard Stark had caused the last generation. Bucky, to put it simply, _cared_. But sadly, the studio refused to take his advice and the risk of veering off into uncharted territory, even if it was relevant. 

 

Unfortunately, this meant his pay was one of the lowest in the company, only a few bucks above the **janitor** for Godsake. It didn't matter how passionately he tried or how successful he was with his talents as a reporter, if he didn't bend over and let the studio fuck the originality out of him, he was seen as the swine of the group. This was one of the reasons he wasn't particularly a fan of Steve Rogers.

 

Steve wasn't Steve, not that Bucky knew who that was or what it meant. He was _Captain America_ , Uncle Sam's personal golden boy and saviour, but almost everything he did seemed forced and fake. On the rare occasion something true broke out of him and you could see he cared for the people who needed saving, whether they were in his reach or not, but more often than not he seemed like a complete product and sell out. And James Buchanan Barnes liked seeing the reality of things, even if it wasn't pleasant. It was partially the reason he served in the first place. 

 

Shit. Either way he had to suck it up and deal with it. He needed the job, he needed the money, and he wasn't blind. Steve was the human incarnation of a wet dream. His blue eyes could make anyone melt, with his blonde hair to boot, even if they did have a will as strong as Bucky's. He's sure that if he squinted, he could look past the corporate sell out and focus on the beauty instead of the beast. Yeah, Bucky could do that. 

 

"Barnes" Natasha scoffed, pushing him from his train of thought. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going I'm going" he grumbled, standing up from his chair and backing away with his hands in the air in a silent surrender. He scooped up the question sheet the front office had printed out for him since he refused to wear his glasses to read the teleprompter as he walked by, heading straight for the head newsroom and watching as two men fiddled with the green screen behind him.

 

Behind Steve. Fuck. He could do this, he'd been to _war_ , he could do this. 

 

Bucky plastered on his most charming smile and wondered over to him. "Hi, I'm James. I'll be interviewing you today?" He said, voice cracking as he phrased the last part like a question, forcing his hand not to shake when he stuck it out. Steve turned to face him and shook his hand firmly, his practically swallowing up Bucky's flesh hand. "Hello, I'm Steve" he beamed, as if Bucky didn't already know. "It's nice to meet you James", "oh, please. Call me Bucky". Sam, who was helping set up the green screen, almost dropped the metal control panel to the ground at that. Mumbling a hurried "shit! Sorry, sorry" and quirking an eyebrow at Bucky from behind Steve's back. It was common knowledge among Bucky's friends, who coincidently where the only ones to call him that, that the nickname was reserved for close friends and lovers. 

 

Bucky just glared in Sam's direction and averted his attention back to the blonde, who _jesus christ_ was taller than Bucky originally thought. "Well Steve, why don't you take a seat on the couch and I'll be right over" he suggested politely, pointing towards the set that consisted of two burgundy leather couches facing each other at an angle, short oak tables either side and one large coffee table made of glass in the middle. Bucky shuffled his papers around and gave himself a second to compose before he joined Steve, choosing to sit across from him since it seemed more professional. 

 

He couldn't stop fidgeting, folding the edges of the stack of paper and clearing his throat, smiling awkwardly when Wanda brought him his morning coffee and set it down on the table. "So...interviews make you nervous too, huh?" He heard, head snapping up as he met Steve's eyes. They were blue, fuck. Why'd they have to be baby blue of _all things_. 

 

"Yeah, I guess. Most days I'm okay, but then again most days I'm not-" he cut off, not wanting to say **interviewing Captain America**. The guy probably already had a big ego. "Most days you're not?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in genuine concern, as if Bucky needed help. "Most days I've already had my coffee by now" he chuckled stiffly, taking up the mug and sipping minutely, using it as a distraction. 

 

"Besides, how can you get nervous for interviews?" Bucky asked, switching the conversation, "you're always doing them. Comes with the job, am I right?" He smiled. Steve shrugged, his strong shoulders pressing against the white of his shirt. The taller man twirled the end of his navy tie and looked up at Bucky from underneath long, blonde eyelashes. "I think that's your job, Bucky". Huh. This guy must've been a good actor after all, he was almost as good as Bucky at deflecting personal questions. Almost. 

 

"And were ready to roll, in five, four..." The camera man chimed throughout the studio, shaking Bucky from the daze Steve's smile had sent him into and making him straighten up, wanting to loosen the top of his dark red tie until a soft "relax, you look perfect" came from across him. "Rolling!". Bucky's stage persona kicked in quicker than a fifth of Jack on a hard weekend, and he barely heard the words slipping from his lips as he introduced his guest. "Hello! I am James Buchanan Barnes and this is Good Morning news at Hydra and Co." He bellowed politely, leaning towards the camera, "today we have Agent Steve Rogers aka the famous Captain America with us, to answer a few questions both our staff and audience have been dying to ask". 

 

"So, Steve" he turned, facing the blonde head on now with only a half fake smile. What? He wasn't bad to look at. "Our very own president Pierce has been wondering how you're adjusting to life in New York again" he breathed, glancing down at the paper, "tell us, has your hardened, rebel Brooklyn heart finally w-". He groaned as quietly as possible, wanting to cold cock someone for these shitty and inconsiderate puns. "Sorry, notch in the throat. Thats what Wanda's coffee will do to you" he teased, picking up from where he left off with only a slight sour expression, "as I was saying, Pierce would like to know if your heart has been warmed, or should I say defrosted, by the beautiful sights of today?". 

 

Bucky glanced up at Steve and mimed a small "I'm sorry" out of the camera's reach, but the blonde seemed fine. His smile didn't even falter, although his beautiful eyes seemed to steel over in a way that made Bucky's chest ache. Realising he must have been put through this over and over, every interview, every **time**. 

 

"Ah, well thats a trick question James, since it seems to have gotten colder since last time" he teased, nodding his head along to his own words as if telling himself to keep going, "although I have to admit the buildings are so much more beautiful nowadays. You never saw architectural beauty and ingenuity like this back in the days. The sheer effort and design put into making each and every sky scraper...it's astounding". 

 

Steve moved his hands as he spoke, sculpting a picture for the audience with motions as well as words, and Bucky quickly became captivated. "Lovely, you speak from such an emotional point of view" he noted, gesturing to Steve, "tell us, are you a closeted designer yourself?". "Well, I'm definitely not closeted" he chuckled, winking towards Bucky's direction and leaving him puzzled. That should be for the camera, the audien- _oh!_. He was teasing Bucky back, slipping in his own puns to counteract the stupid printed ones in front of James. It made Bucky more comfortable, knowing that Steve knew these weren't his. 

 

"Although I am an artist, in my spare time that is" he shrugged, leaning forward and stealing up Bucky's cup, sipping from it before setting it down with a smirk. This could be fun, he thought. Steve didn't seem corporate at all right now, in fact he seemed...genuine. 

 

"So Steve, a member of last weeks audience would like to know something, do you prefer being known as Captain America the superhero, or Steve Rogers the decorated veteran?" Bucky read aloud from his page, fighting the urge to nervously toy with the strands of his hair. Wondering if he would be in complete and utter shit if he just avoided all the bad puns. At the end of the day it _was_ Captain America. Surely the studio wouldn't care as long as the rates went up. 

 

"Neither, actually" Steve breezed, crossing his ankle over one knee and holding his calf as he leaned into the couch, completely in his element. "I prefer to be known as a mixture of the two, Captain America the veteran". Bucky rolled his eyes, unable to, his cocky mouth spitting out an "you're sure one for impressive titles, huh Cap? You know what they say about overcompensating...". 

 

Bucky wanted to take it back instantly, sure that Rogers would demand his head for embarrassing him on national television, but instead he laughed. Actually, genuinely laughed, cheeks brightening slightly from the action. "It's not what you think, I care little for titles" he explained, licking his bottom lip and drawing in Bucky's attention, "it's just that from the moment I uh, came back. I was known as Captain America, and I was known for my great achievements. Nobody knew me, knew Steve Rogers. Nobody wondered what I do on the weekends, and I doubt anyone imagined the Captain slouching on his couch drinking bourbon out of an 'I love kittens' mug". 

 

Bucky snickered, letting out a breath, "ah, I understand. Being known for your great achievements sometimes means not being known at all". Steve kept his smile on but this time it seemed almost poised, as if he were locking his face from a few seconds before to not reveal what he truly felt. He nodded after a moment, eyes alight as he stared at Bucky without uttering a word, making the Reporter squirm and rattle through his papers to find his next question. That is, until Pierce shown up. 

 

Meandering right onto the set, he clasped Bucky's shoulder in a solid grip, looking friendly but making him fight a wince. "Good morning" Bucky greeted gruffly, looking up at him with a smile plastered on, but his eyes betrayed how confused he felt. "Good morning Gents, I'd just like to announce that today's broadcast will be cut short by ten minutes. Technical difficulties and such, but tomorrow we will be back bright and early! For the mean time, Steve" he smiled, looking at Steve like a proud father and not someone who had been slating his name a mere hour ago, perfect practice. "Did you know that our own James here is a veteran?". Oh no. Bucky swallowed thickly, squeezing his eyes shut for a second and begging, _willing_ the world to have mercy on him. He couldn't deal with the humiliation, even if he did have it coming for going off script. He should have known that Pierce would have been watching. 

 

"I believe I did not" Steve smiled, raising an eyebrow quizzically at Bucky, as if asking him whether this man was friend or foe. He quickly received his answer. "Yes yes, I do believe our audience would like to see this. Come, James" he echoed, "roll up your sleeve". Bucky's heart was going a mile a minute, beads of sweat prickling the back of his neck. He knew that if he just breathed, in for five seconds, out for five seconds. If he just breathed he'd be okay, but the President's hand on his shoulder was achingly tight, sending his mind into the beginnings of a flash back. Taking a deep, rattled breath, Sergeant Barnes- no, _Bucky_ , he was _Bucky_ \- hastily unbuttoned his wrist cufflink with shaky fingers, forcing the material up to his elbow and turning his face towards the green screen and away from the camera. 

 

He didn't want to meet Steve's eyes and see the look of horror, of repulsion lying behind those blue irises, knew he couldn't cope if he had to see anyone sneer at his appendage. The President's rough bark of a satisfactory laugh broke the silence, forcing Steve back into his persona too. "Yes, well" he exhaled, shaking his head, "that is something rather mind blowing". "I think the words you're looking for are arm blowing, Captain" he sneered, giving Bucky's shoulder one last blunt scrape of his nails before he straightened up to face the Camera. "Well, thank you ladies and Gentleman. Apologies once again for the disturbance, but we will be back sooner than you anticipate!" He chimed, that crooked smile calling at Bucky to realign his teeth, "good morning and goodbye from all of us at Hydra and Co.". 

 

Once Pierce stalked off Bucky didn't move, sat as still as possible, rigid in his seat. His sleeve still haphazardly pushed up and his eyes blank, face expressionless as he faced the screen. "Bucky?" Steve asked, tentatively reaching out and tapping the knuckles of Bucky's metal hand with the tips of his fingers. He flinched but didn't pull away, which must have been a good sign as Steve reached over and encased his metal hand in his own. The super soldiers palm was wide enough it almost concealed Bucky's mechanical one, and the visual somehow helped. "Bucky, look at me" he said firmly, causing the brunet's wide and watery eyes lock down on him, analysing. Precise. The training practically woven into his very genetics. 

 

"Look" Steve started, clearly not knowing where to go with his minuscule pep talk, looking around the studio for inspiration as he tried to gather up his own thoughts into a sensical order. "You know what?" He asked, picking up Bucky's empty coffee mug and turning it around in his free hand, "that's a fucking ugly mug, Buck". The male still seated on the couch looked at Roger's from under his lashes with confusion painted all over his face, his panic levels doing their best not to spike as he was forced into an even stranger situation. 

 

"It is!" He exclaimed, making James startle, squirming and trying to pull his metal fist free of Steve's. "Look at it; it's repulsive. Chipped and unfinished, shoddy paint work, the words aren't even _straight!_ " he sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head and gazing into the bottom of the mug as if it held the answers to the universe. "But that doesn't matter, because it held some great coffee" he smiled, eyes finally meeting Bucky's, who's breathing was at least even now from the distraction. "God, that coffee was heaven. I may need to pay Wanda to work for me, although I suspect she has some better talents than concocting and carrying." Steve chuckled, biting his lip "Point is, people are gonna hate this piece of crap, okay? But once they taste the coffee, they won't even remember what it looked like".

 

Bucky was stunned, sat in confusion for a few moments longer until his blood flow co operated and finally managed to let his brain function normally. He wasn't flushed, or panting, or staring at the green screen and trying not to hit something. His body had been calmed, even if the tactics were **ridiculous**. "Smash it". Bucky frowned, nose crinkling up as he finally spoke, "what?". "Smash it" Steve repeated insistingly, taking Bucky's metal hand in his own and curling the fingers around porcelain mug with the dedication of an artist, "smash it, Buck. Fuck everyone's expectations, your arm is fucking beautiful, a masterpiece. So fuck what people think". 

 

A small smile curled upon the blonde's lips as Bucky timidly raised his arm, quirking an eyebrow and receiving an encouraging nod from Steve as he backed away slightly. Using all his force, Bucky swung his arm back and hurled the mug towards the ground a few feet away, the splintering sounds of pottery chinking in the air like music to his ears. Steve burst into applause, ignoring the cries and distant yells from one of the crew and simply reaching into his pocket to distribute a twenty dollar note onto the coffee table. "You did great, Buck" he praised, walking up to Bucky and pushing a strand of hair back behind his ear, fingertips lingering on his cheek for a few moments. 

 

"Was your coffee analogy your way of telling me you wanna taste me, Rogers?" He smirked, finally back to his old self, causing Steve to cast him a sideways grin and a wink which he could barely tell if it _was_ a wink. "Maybe, Barnes, maybe. But how about for now we just go get some coffee?" He suggested, making Bucky fiddle with the sleeve half rolled up his arm, and making Steve slap his hand away in retaliation. "Stop fidgeting, jerk. Just come and have a drink with me" he purred, and what could Bucky Barnes do but follow?...


	2. Bathroom threats & coffee shop kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Steve waltzed back over he had two cups in hand, setting one down in front of Bucky before he seated himself across from him, sipping on his own. The medium styrofoam cups had names written on them. Steve's simply said "Steve", where as Bucky's read "sexy brunette". "Uh, Steve?" He asked, gesturing to the cup as he turned it so Steve could read the name. He burst out laughing, a small snort leaving him as his nose crinkled up. Bucky found it endearing, it was a small chip in the perfect persona of Captain America.
> 
>  
> 
> "Well then " he said, clearing his throat and nudging Bucky's foot under the table with his own, "maybe the barista likes you. She's kind of cute, I guess. You should go for it. She'd probably write her number on your next coffee cup" he teased. 
> 
> Bucky shook his head, a light stain of red coating his cheeks as he shoved at Steve's foot in return, missing and grazing his ankle. "I um. I don't think so" he sighed, running his finger over the rim of his coffee lid, not meeting Steve's eyes. "I'm not really...I mean. I don't do the whole, dating girls thing. Y'know?" He stuttered, sounding like an idiot to his own ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy. Experimenting with my perception of my characters and what I can achieve with that. Bucky is a confused little bean, and Steve just radiates confidence which both entices and annoys our boy. 
> 
> Still taking requests for one shots! Don't be scared to leave a comment, my darlings ❤️
> 
>  
> 
> "Do the God's light this fire in our hearts or does each man's mad desire become his God?"~ Virgil.

Bucky ditched his tie on his cubicle desk and shrugged on his familiar brown leather jacket after the interview, readjusting the elastic holding back his dark hair and taking in a deep breath to steady himself before shooting a salute at Natasha. She didn't seem to notice, too busy working on her company issued computer, or much more likely playing a retro Pac-Man game. He chuckled to himself under his breath, shaking his head and heading for the men's bathroom.

  
He made a point of not glancing in the mirror stuck securely to the bathroom wall above the sinks as he walked in, heading straight for the urinal and unzipping his jeans, leaning an arm on the wall above his head as he thought about everything that had happened in the last couple of hours. He'd been forced to do a task he figured he'd loath by his boss, managed to stop Natasha from pissing off said boss even more, and the most intriguing thing that had happened. He'd been wrong.

  
Bucky wasn't usually wrong _at all_ when it came to judging people's character, his short years on the force had heightened his senses and he practically knew instantly if someone was to be trusted. He'd believed Steve would be another pompous, self-absorbed commercial sell out. But he'd _stood up_ for Bucky, made him feel momentarily comfortable in an environment he hated, as well as stopping him mid way through a flash back. Nobody had done that before, not even Natasha. The one and only time he'd relapsed in front of her was after Pierce had screamed himself hoarse at Bucky, and she'd only stopped him from passing out by whipping back her hand and slapping him non to lightly across the face. Even then, he'd practically crawled home and spent the entire night checking his doors. His windows. Hell, even if his oven was on. Trying to secure himself.

  
The brunette forced himself back into the present, tucking himself away and zipping up his jeans (that he'd changed into after Steve had calmed him down), flushing the urinal and heading over to the sink the wash his hands. He looked up on reflex when the door was pushed open roughly, rolling his eyes and averting his gaze back down to the task at hand as his boss strolled in behind him. Bucky let the tepid water run, his flesh hand already clean of soap but the plating of the metal one was still coated in it. Forcing itself intrusively between the small gaps and ridges.

  
"You need to be more careful" he heard, a barely there grumble from the corner of the room. He looked behind him in the mirror and Pierce was casually leaning against a closed stall, not even bothering to move into it. It made Bucky bite back a shudder, he'd purposely followed him in here. "Of what, Sir?" He asked, keeping his voice light as he rested his hands on the metal basin of the sink, the tap still running. "You are scripted for a reason, Barnes" Pierce chuckled dryly, fiddling with the wrist band of his watch as if the conversation held non of his interest, "you're unpredictable and rather dim witted at times. We don't need _you_ screwing up our ratings because you want to protect some freaky frozen soldier from the forties".

  
"With all due respect, _sir_ " Bucky said in a measured tone, throat protesting even as he spoke politely to this bastard, "I wasn't trying to protect him. He's a grown man, a man of war at that. He can protect himself. I just don't agree that the studio should rely on viewers by mocking what he's been through". Bucky looked up at his reflection, surprising not only Pierce but himself at his small outburst of courage. He never talked back to his boss, let alone to defend someone he met only a few hours ago. Bucky rolled his eyes, reaching to turn off the tap when suddenly there was a firm hand on his shoulder spinning him around.

  
The harsh metal edge of the sink dug into the small of Bucky's back, making him bite back a yelp as he looked into Pierce's eyes, quickly blinking and focusing on the man's tie instead. "You listen here, Barnes" he hissed, the echo of professionalism all but gone from his voice as he squeezed Bucky's shoulder hard enough to bruise, "you repeat the words I slap in front of you and you do so with a smile on your face and your sleeves rolled _down_ , do you hear me? I am the president of this company, I decide what we do and do not air and if you continue, I might just cut you off screen all together".

  
Bucky nodded helplessly, reaching slightly behind him to clench the sink in his fists, hair falling in his eyes. "Yes sir" he mumbled, suddenly so interested in his shoes. "What was that?" Pierce bellowed, making Bucky's voice break as he said "I said yes, sir" in a higher volume. "Good" the ageing man smirked at him, tapping Bucky's left cheek twice with his hand and shaking his shoulder as if they were good friends before straightening up, adjusting his tie and walking out of the bathroom. Bucky barely caught the "watch yourself, Barnes. Watch yourself" that left his lips in an almost monotone voice before the door slammed behind him.

 

Bucky let out a shaky exhale, leaning heaving on the sink. The tap was still running but the water was cold now, sending goosebumps up his arm as he cupped his hands to catch the water, splashing it over his face and rubbing his temple with his fingers before shutting it off. He noticed a sizeable dent in the stainless steel of the sink, five small dents where his fingers had gripped harder than he intended. His eyes met the mirror once again and he couldn't help but stare as water droplets clung to his eyelashes before spilling down his cheeks, catching on the edge of his jaw before falling back into the sink in small shimmering drips. It was almost as if he were crying.

  
 _Almost_.

 

"So" Steve smiled brightly when Bucky met him at the entrance to the news building, hands shoved into his pockets and making his shoulders stand out against his shirt again, "ready to go?". Bucky gave him a smile in return, he couldn't not, although his was significantly less charming. "Yeah, I just had to grab my jacket" Bucky explained, walking in step besides Steve who had started strolling down the street, casting glances down at the brunette whenever he thought the coast was clear. "So where exactly are we going?" He asked, biting the side of his lip as they turned the corner, Steve's hand flying out so his forearm pressed against his stomach as they looked across the road. James quirked his eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth in a silent question.

  
"Sorry" the blonde blurted, his smile not even faltering as he started to elaborate, "i'm used to holding Sharon's little girl back from the roads. It's instinct". Bucky, now that the muscular arm had been removed from his body, jogged across the street with Steve. "Sharon?" He repeated, trying to hide the slight swirl of jealousy coiling in his stomach. "Sharon is a friend, I used to work with her aunt in the forties. Sharon is only young, twenty seven. But her and her partner adopted this beautiful little girl, Mia". Steve shook his head, eyes glazed over with affection as he spoke, "she's so intelligent and curious for her age. She's six. Always wants the climb buildings and pet strange animals".

  
Bucky nudged his side with Steve's, laughing softly. "She sounds adorable, it's no wonder she doesn't know how to be afraid" he teased, "you're in her life". Steve's lips twitched as they stood still, coming to a stop as he spoke in a low voice, "everyone is afraid of something, Buck. Come on, were here". Bucky rolled the nickname of his nickname around his head as Steve held open the door to a small corner coffee shop for him, deciding he liked how it sounded coming from Steve's mouth as he stepped inside.

  
The place looked humble and had a welcoming aura. The walls where covered in light, parchment coloured wall paper with small burgundy and green vines painted in delicate designs, spiralling up from floor to ceiling. The occasional gap in the pattern showcased small leathery photo frames depicting different images. One held a black and white photo of a mechanic, jumpsuit pushed down around his waist with a white vest top underneath, waving at the camera from over his shoulder with a wrench in hand and a big smile. Other's held cars, groups of women in long flowing dresses and petticoats, and some just held passages from books. Small, circular brown oak tables sat around the room, metal barstools perched either side of the tables.

  
Nothing seemed to match perfectly, the metal of the chairs contrasting with the wooden furniture and peeling wallpaper. Small lamps dangled from over head, showcasing the flaws of the place instead of hiding them. It left Bucky feeling relaxed as he took it all in, feeling as if he had stepped into another century. It was probably why Steve appeared to like it so much, if the comfortable repertoire he currently had going with the barista was anything to go by. Bucky smiled, walking past the tables to a small brown leather booth and sliding in, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and laying it across his lap.

  
When Steve waltzed back over he had two cups in hand, setting one down in front of Bucky before he seated himself across from him, sipping on his own. The medium styrofoam cups had names written on them. Steve's simply said "Steve", where as Bucky's read " _sexy brunette_ ". "Uh, Steve?" He asked, gesturing to the cup as he turned it so Steve could read the name. He burst out laughing, a small snort leaving him as his nose crinkled up. Bucky found it endearing, it was a small chip in the perfect persona of Captain America.

  
"Well then " he said, clearing his throat and nudging Bucky's foot under the table with his own, "maybe the barista likes you. She's kind of cute, I guess. You should go for it. She'd probably write her number on your next coffee cup" he teased. Bucky shook his head, a light stain of red coating his cheeks as he shoved at Steve's foot in return, missing and grazing his ankle. "I um. I don't think so" he sighed, running his finger over the rim of his coffee lid, not meeting Steve's eyes. "I'm not really...I mean. I don't do the whole, dating _girls_ thing. Y'know?" He stuttered, sounding like an idiot to his own ears.

  
"So you're gay?" Steve asked, no malice in his voice. Just curiosity. Bucky gave him a sheepish nod, pressing his shoe down on Bucky's toes slightly to make him squirm. "Is that why you keep playing footsie with me, Mr Barnes?" He crooned, that smirk plastered back on his lips, making Bucky giggle and raise a hand to cover his mouth. "Don't" Steve said, tugging his wrist back down onto the table and rubbing his thumb over his pulse point, "it's cute". Bucky hoped he couldn't feel how his pulse sped up at that, thrumming under his skin. "I believe you're the one who started the footsie, Steve. Don't pin your latent homosexual feelings on my toes".

  
Steve did that adorable snorting thing again, running a hand through his hair and tousling it up so it spiked a little. He sipped from his cup, effectively ending the conversation for now. James followed his lead and started drinking from his cup, humming and looking down at it, eyebrows furrowed. "How did you know what coffee I liked?" He mumbled, raising it back to his mouth as he listened. "I had some of your coffee at the studio. I figured that's what you'd want" Steve shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. Bucky felt a sense of warmth shoot through him at the admission, surprised that Steve remembered that, even if it was only a little while ago.

  
He set his cup down when he was finished sucking the last of the coffee, moaning appreciatively and ignoring Steve's raised eyebrow. "Good coffee" he smiled, blushing and apologising profusely as a small drop escaped his mouth. He went to wipe it away but Steve beat him to it, swiping his thumb over Bucky's bottom lip. He slipped it between his own lips, sucking on it softly and winking at the man across from him before he dropped his hand. "Uh..." Bucky gaped, not quite sure what to say, but he was saved as Steve stood up. Was he leaving?

  
"Come on" he chirped, "i want more coffee, then i'll walk you home. Unless you need to go to the studio?". Bucky shook his head and stood up, shrugging on his leather jacket, following Steve to the counter and walking a few steps behind. "Hey Wanda, Bucky would like another black coffee and i'll have the usual" the blonde ordered softly, resting his arm on the counter as he watched the woman potter around making their drinks. Bucky supposed she would be attractive to him if he were straight; her long curling brown hair was waist length and her eye make-up would leave anyone intimidated at how _perfect_ it was.

  
"You and your pumpkin spice latte's, Stevie. You're such a typical white girl" Wanda laughed, setting their drinks down and glancing at Bucky for the first time since Steve had ordered. Her eyes lingered on his metal fingers, dropping down as far as the counter would allow before she looked into his eyes with a sort or resolve. "Hi" she purred, resting her elbows on the counter which subsequently made her breasts more noticeable. Bucky blushed, glancing at Steve for help as a string of "uh. I um, Bucky. I'm...hi" left his lips.

  
He didn't get too long to embarrass himself however, as a strong arm wrapped around his waist, warm lips pressed to his forehead. James' eyes widened as he looked up at Steve from underneath his eyelashes, catching a subtle wink from him and deciding to play along. "Bucky's never been here before, have you sweetheart?" Steve breathed, nuzzling the top of his hair with a hum. The brunette caught Wanda's disappointed frown but didn't point it out, instead settling against Steve's warm side. He reached into his pocket for his wallet when a sharp pinch to his hip made him whimper, hitting Steve's shoulder playfully.

  
"Stop it, i'm paying" Steve insisted, smoothly sliding over a few dollar bills to the Barista and taking up his cup. James grabbed his own, pouting that he didn't get to pay, but maybe it was to keep up their little charade. "Come on baby, I'll take you home" he heard, lips close enough to his ear to make him shiver. He turned his face to reply with something cocky but out of nowhere there were warm lips sliding against his own. Bucky let out a small noise he hoped nobody heard, leaning up on tip toes and resting his hand on Steve's chest. The hot, wet brush of a tongue against his bottom lip made him part his lips, but before it could go further he was being turned around and led out of the store slowly.

  
They didn't speak until they were a few streets away, Steve's arm still wrapped around Bucky's waist protectively. He didn't question it, just walked in time with him. "So..." He started, stopping and moving so he was in front of the tall blonde, hand on his chest. "Mind telling me what that was about? I mean I didn't mind it but-", "she was hitting on you. You were a mumbling mess, I wanted my latte without having to wait for you to eventually mumble " _Me like cock. No girls_ ". Bucky poked him squarely in the arm, gasping in mock horror. "I was _not_ that big of a mess!" He argued, but Steve just rested a hand on his cheek. "Please, you were a cave man".

  
James grunted in disagreement, looking around them and biting his lip. "My apartments jut around the corner" he sighed, not taking his hand away from Steve's broad torso. "You didn't mind?". "Wha?" Bucky gaped idiotically, "you said you didn't mind it" Steve repeated. It took him a second to understand what he meant, then it clicked and Bucky's blood flow changed direction. His cheeks heating up. "Well, i didn't. It was nice...". There was a thin silence now, they were close enough that they breathed in each other's air, tension crackling between them. "I should go", Bucky said, more because he wanted to break the silence than because he actually wanted to leave.

 

"Okay, i'll see you some time, I guess" Steve smiled, thumb rubbing circles on Bucky's heated cheek, "you were a great fake boyfriend". "You too, _Stevie_ " he teased, using the name Wanda seemed to be fond of in the shop. It hadn't worked, the air still seemed to fizz between them, every movement of Bucky's chest as he breathed in and out seemed painfully obvious. Just as Bucky slipped the hand on Steve's chest down to his stomach to playfully push him away, Steve plastered himself to the brunette.

  
The kiss wasn't like it had been in the coffee shop. There was nothing soft and sweet about it. Steve's lips were warm and harsh, demanding as he gripped the back of Bucky's neck to tip his face in the direction he liked. Bucky's arm was trapped in the vicinity of Steve's shirt and belt but he didn't care as the blonde coaxed Bucky's lips open with his own. He mewled pathetically loud when he felt Steve's tongue force it's way into his mouth, not that he gave much resistance. The warm, wet muscle rubbed against Bucky's, exploring his mouth and making him fist his fingers in Steve's shirt. Fingers catching on exposed skin.

 

When he started to need air he pulled back slightly, but he didn't get far as Steve sucked on his bottom lip, nibbling before pulling away with a knowing smirk. They were both panting shallowly, Bucky's eyes kept fluttering closed of his own accord, surprised he hadn't spilled his drink. Steve's own cup was crushed on the ground, pooling around their feet and he didn't know how he hadn't _heard_ it fall.

 

"Good day, Buck" Steve whispered, ducking down for one last peck before he turned and walked away, looking back over his shoulder a couple of times. Bucky stood there, confused and disorientated, cold pumpkin spice Latte seeping into his shoes. He made himself move on autopilot, walking the few blocks to his apartment building and entering. He unlocked the door after bumping his shoulder against it a few times, the shotty woodwork of the door finally giving way and allowing him entry. Once inside he dropped his keys onto the table and shut the door, sinking to his ass on the floor against it with his knees tucked up. The coffee cup, still full to the brim, clutched in his hand.

  
One this cup, instead of his name or " _sexy brunette_ ", it read five simple words. Ended with a sketch of a heart in permanent marker: " _you make a cute couple <3_". Bucky touched his fingertips to his lips, still feeling the shadow of the kiss left behind on his skin, his bottom lip slightly swollen where Steve had bitten it.

 

 

  
What the _hell_ had just happened?

 


	3. Broken Vehicles & not-so-secret kinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as he straightened up to get going again someone tapped him on the shoulder, shrugging away from the touch as he looked up through his hair at the man. "Steve?" He asked, frowning as he focused on him, work momentarily forgotten.
> 
> "What're you doing here?" He asked, smirking when Steve rolled his lips into his mouth to hide a smile, pointing at the entrance of the shop he'd just left. _Oh_ , it was the coffee shop they'd both been to the day before. The brunet suddenly remembered how that meeting ended, cheeks darkening at the memory, hopefully he could pass it off as a flush from sprinting. 
> 
> "Oh. Coffee, right" he mumbled, smiling at the blonde weakly. "Any particular reason you're breathing like you just finished your role in an orgy?" Steve snickered, resting a hand on Bucky's back and rubbing it in small circles comfortingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I am so sorry this is so god damn late. I won't go into details but 2016 was such a terrible year, shortly after i posted chapter two of this story I spiralled and i was in a very dark place thanks to some very bad people. But, on a happier note, it is 2017! A new year, new chances. 
> 
> I hope you all had a great new years, my friends. I am sorry this chapter is A) terribly late and B) not up to standard. I've had half of this written since September and just haven't managed to finish it, so if it seems scattered I apologise. Also, I apologise for the format of this thing! It is a mess and i can't figure out how to fix it.
> 
> Please, try and enjoy. And remember, if you ever need to talk I am here! Open to criticism and suggestions, have a great night my lovelies! Xo

Bucky groaned when he heard that shrill noise, burying his face into the soft, white pillow beneath him to try and muffle it and hopefully stop the pain it was pulsing through his head. It did little to help, and after thirty seconds or shifting and contorting the pillow to cover both his ears, Bucky reached his hand out blindly to try and hit the snooze button. He ended up knocking the entire thing off the stand, the plastic cracking as it hit the floor since he'd swatted at it with his metal fist. At least the noise had seized. 

 

He pulled himself up into a sitting position, twisting and seating himself on the edge of the bed, resting his feet on the warm black carpet on the ground, running both hands through his hair to push the knotted strands out of his face. Trying to read the frozen, cracked numbers from the tilted alarm clock he realised it was already seven, jumping up with a _"fuck sakes"_ and practically sprinting into the bathroom. He didn't have time to wait for the water to heat up, washing his body and greasy hair with freezing cold water, having to climb out just as it started to comfortably heat up.

 

He didn't feel all that professional today, since he wouldn't have any booked screen time for the rest of the morning and would mostly end up doing paper work, so he found the closest clean clothes within his reach and tugged them on. Not bothering to untangle the knots in the wire of his hair dryer, he ran his fingers through each section, as soon as he was satisfied it was no longer soaking wet and dripping onto his shoulders he flicked the switch off, tugged it out of the socket and slamming in his hair straighteners. Bucky turned it onto it's highest setting so it would heat up faster, flattening down the fluffy strands just as his phone rang.

 

The brunet rolled his eyes, dropping the straighteners onto the towel he'd used when he'd gotten out of the shower and answering just before it cut off. He didn't even have to check who it was. "Yeah, yeah _I know_ " he mumbled in a rush, hopping on one leg to tug his doc martens on, "first alarm didn't go off, think i damaged it last time i swatted it off the fuckin' table". "James, seriously. Just use the alarm on your phone! Or get a sturdier clock" Natasha snickered, and Bucky bet she was shaking her head, "look are we gonna talk home decorating or are you gonna come pick me up for work?".

 

Bucky was met with silence, making him pause once he'd slipped on his jacket. "Buck, I can't today, just take your car" she said, her voice strangely lack lustre, "my cars in the shop, Nat. I need your help on this one". Bucky grabbed his keys and phone, locking his door as he ran down the stairs, "honestly i'm surprised you're not here alre-", "James, I can't today okay? I've got a big meeting with Pierce in five minutes". Bucky froze, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear as he leaned against the wall just outside of his building, "Pierce? What does he want? _fuck_ , Nat. What did you do?". She huffed down the phone, and she must have been resting the mobile between her shoulder and neck because he could here the typical click clack of her wicked fast typing, "i didn't do anything. He just wants to see me. Stop worrying about my job and get here and do **yours**. I'm sorry, Buck" she mumbled just before the line went dead.

 

Bucky cursed, swearing under his breath and deciding he'd have to walk it. He started pacing as quick as he could without running down the street, regretting wearing leather pants and a full sleeved white shirt as well as his leather jacket already. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the wall of a nearby shop and resting his hands on his knees as he sucked in deep lungfuls of air. Even though he was clearly healthy, Bucky avoided strenuous exercise and focused on small blast sessions, as whenever he put his body into overdrive his mind associated exercise with the war. And a flashback when he was already twenty minutes late to work wouldn't help in the slightest.

 

Just as he straightened up to get going again someone tapped him on the shoulder, shrugging away from the touch as he looked up through his hair at the man. "Steve?" He asked, frowning as he focused on him, work momentarily forgotten. "What're you doing here?" He asked, smirking when Steve rolled his lips into his mouth to hide a smile, pointing at the entrance of the shop he'd just left. _Oh_ , it was the coffee shop they'd both been to the day before. The brunet suddenly remembered how that meeting ended, cheeks darkening at the memory, hopefully he could pass it off as a flush from sprinting. "Oh. Coffee, right" he mumbled, smiling at the blonde weakly. "Any particular reason you're breathing like you just finished your role in an orgy?" Steve snickered, resting a hand on Bucky's back and rubbing it in small circles comfortingly. "Yeah I uh" he murmured stupidly, looking up and down the street, "twenty minutes late to work, well. Probably more now. Cars' in the shop, no lift. Woke up late".

 

Steve gestured with his head behind him, making Bucky look over the blonde's broad shoulder (on tip toe, might he add). He spotted a car, nothing to sleek or fancy. A white Ford Fiesta parked on the curb outside of the little coffee shop. It had all matte black tires, and even though Bucky suspected Steve could definitely afford something fancier, it was clear this car had been loved. It was still as bright as if it had just been purchased, but there were tell tail signs on the wheels that he'd definitely had some fun in this baby.

 

"Christ, sounds like you've had a hard morning already" he said sympathetically, worrying his perfect bottom lip between his teeth, just like he'd done to Bucky's the other day. Bucky shook himself, looking up at him with a slow nod, "want a ride?". Bucky smirked for the first time that morning, letting out a small laugh, "Steve, i'm already almost there. It's like two minutes away". Steve waved his hand away, rolling his eyes and taking Bucky's wrist between his long fingers, leading him to the car and opening the passenger door. "Buck, get your ass in the car" he said firmly with a playful edge, "besides, if I turn up with you then I doubt you can get scolded for being late".

 

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, chapped lips parting and shutting again when he realised it was futile. Rolling his eyes with a groan he climbed into the car seat, buckling up and slamming the door shut as hard as he dared on Steve's car to try and get across his reluctance. Steve just rapped his knuckles against the window in warning, walking over to the driver's seat with a smirk and sliding in effortlessly and tugging his door shut. "Right" he sighed, starting the engine, making Bucky hum at the purr beneath his seat, "let's get you to work, shall we?". Bucky ran his fingers over the dashboard, tilting his head to the side as he listened to Steve pulling out of his parking space, an inquisitive smile gracing his own lips. "You've changed her engine, haven't you?" He said knowingly, chuckling under his breath and glaring at him, "or reinforced her pipes. You've dumped them, haven't you? Cut them and twisted them right below the seats?".

 

Steve risked a glance off the road at Bucky, quirking a definitely plucked eyebrow, "you really know your cars, huh?". Bucky shook his head, letting his fingers drop from the dash, "not really" he shrugged, biting his bottom lip "just, a fetishist" he admitted. His tone was teasing, playful, but it held a lot of truth. Bucky smiled, cheeks darkening, "I like cars, I like listening to people talk about them. To be honest, i've always wanted to have sex in a decent car. That'd be hot". The brunet slipped his fingers through his hair, gathering up the strands sticking to his neck in the heat, grateful when Steve rolled down his window as he knotted it up into a messy bun with the bobble he always kept on his wrist. Resting his cheek against the plush black fabric of the headrest be sighed, wishing he had his own car back. She was, to be blunt, a piece of shit. But she was his baby, he'd paid triple what she was worth to get her fixed up and running again and she was already breaking down.

 

Steve and Bucky were silent for the rest of the journey, it wasn't an awkward silence surprisingly. More of a relaxed atmosphere, Steve driving and fiddling with the radio, not being able to pick a decent station as Bucky relaxed into the seat and let the warm air come through the window and wash over him. He felt at peace here, in a comfortable seat of a beautiful car, with... _Steve_. He still didn't really know who Steve _was_ , outside of the publicity and the fame. When the car stopped slowly he looked up, opening his eyes and sighing when he realised they were parked on the street just outside of his office block.

 

"We're here" Steve said, smiling softly as he looked over at Bucky before shutting off the engine, pushing open his door and waiting for Bucky to follow. The brunet grunted something under his breath, climbing out of the car and giving it a pining glance, wishing he could just stay in there and fall asleep for the rest of the day. Steve must have spotted him because Bucky heard a small snort to his left, rolling his eyes as he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "You don't have to come in with me, you know" he offered, already walking away towards the entrance. He didn't mean to be rude, but he was sleep and grouchy and at least thirty minutes late by now. The fair haired guy behind him just followed him at a quickened pace, and Bucky could just tell he was shrugging his shoulders. He seemed to do that a lot around him.

 

Bucky barely made it inside of the door and up to his cubicle when one of his co-workers walked by, Timmy or Thomas, he could never remember his name. "Watch out, boss is probably on his way to talk to you" he mumbled, tapping the tiny wall of his cubicle with his knuckles, "been on everyone's case lately, seems to have it in for you though. Shoulda stayed at home". He shook his head, dropping his bag onto the floor and sinking into his seat. He had completely forgotten Steve was there until he heard Natasha's office chair being rolled over next to Bucky's by his minuscule one man desk. "Steve, what're you still doing here?" He asked as politely as he could manage, sliding his laptop out of his bag since it was faster than the computer that had been set up on his desk since before he was even working here. "I'm making sure that your boss doesn't shout at you?" He said, biting his bottom lip with a shy smile, "and okay, i'm bored and if I go out today i'll get attacked by press for doing something as mundane as shopping. I figure, why not hide from the press in one of their very own buildings?".

 

Bucky had to admit that seemed logical, nodding as he acknowledged it and looking at his computer screen as he logged on until he heard that voice speak up again. This time a few decimals lower so no one else would hear. "Plus, I like spending time with you". When Barnes turned his head to look at Steve the super soldier was noticeably closer, making his eyes widen and lips part as he thought of something to say until he realised Steve wasn't making a move. He'd simply leaned that close so nobody could hear their conversation, especially since this was Captain America, quiet a few eyes were already wandering to them. It was hard not to notice how the blonde's eyes dragged down, watching Bucky's mouth open on words he hadn't yet figured out, and he'd started to tilt his head to the side and lean in just a little more.

 

He practically jumped a mile away from Steve when he heard the unmistakable sound of Pierce's door opening, turning to face it and missing the other man's slightly disappointed frown. Watching intently, Bucky stood up out of his chair when he saw Natasha wonder out slowly, looking sorrow for what must have been the first time in years. Instantly worried about his friend he tried to mumble an excuse to Steve as he pushed his chair under his desk, and Natasha's eyes met his for a moment before darting away shamefully. Lips in a thin line. Before he could take two steps toward her a firm hand landed on his shoulder, jostling him. "Barnes" he heard right down his ear, making him fight the urge to cringe as he twirled round to face his boss.

 

"You're late, again. Starting to become a usual thing for you, huh?" He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and quirking an eyebrow, waiting for his response. Bucky didn't know if it was rhetorical or not, either way it was a trap. "Sir, i'm sorry. My morning just got off to a bad start-","I don't care how your morning went, did I ask? This is your desk, your cubicle and your job. If you want to keep it I suggest you use the ten tons of steel attached to that shoulder of yours to drag your useless ass out of bed in the morning". Bucky bit his lip, nodding as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the floor and waiting for him to finish up ranting so he could just get his fucking work done and go back to bed.

 

When a throat was cleared behind them Bucky squeezed his eyes closed, willing Steve not to get involved and make him look even worse, cheeks already darkening as he heard the man stand up. "With all due respect, Mr.Pierce, I don't think it's polite of you to speak to your employees like that" he said firmly, "nor do I think it's right you manhandle them. This is a respectable news agency, and if you want me as a permanent client and guest for your viewers you'll have to show me that the people in this building are treated like _people_ ". Steve smirked, wrapping an arm around Bucky's shoulders and looking at Pierce directly in the eyes from underneath long eyelashes. That look would have melted any straight woman or gay man in the room under any other circumstance, but right now added with that too happy smirk, Bucky felt like Steve could kill a man with a simple glance.

 

"After all, we wouldn't want rumours getting back to HR about how you treat your staff, would we?" He said innocently, looking at Pierce with a blank expression, anticipating what he'd do next. Surprisingly he just sputtered, sending Steve a look that made Bucky turn his face into the other man's shoulder on reflex to avoid it. The tight, comforting squeeze to his shoulders made Barnes feel safer, but it seemed almost like a twitch. Like Mr.America himself had seen something the reporter hadn't. When he eventually pulled away he found a barrier, Steve's arms coming around him in an unbreakable embrace. He allowed himself to enjoy it, closing his eyes, hands curled into small fists on that toned chest before it started to feel awkward.

 

"Uh, Steve?" He asked meekly, feeling the other let go reluctantly. They smiled at each other, a nervous laugh bubbling up from Bucky's chest as he took his seat again. His new found saviour seemed to have the same idea, spinning the chair around and straddling it, arms resting on the back as they both focused on the reporter's laptop screen. "You're kidding" Steve chuckled, tapping the left hand corner of the screen with his index fingertip, perfect teeth on display as he smiled. It made Bucky's stomach twist, but he realised it was probably nausea since he hadn't eaten anything substantial yet. "You have Tyler Durden as your background?" He asked, chest shaking as he laughed at Bucky, making the brunet punch him in the arm playfully. "Fight club is an ingenious movie that actually accurately portrays the life of someone with split personality, or D.I.D. Always thought he had D.I.D to be honest" he shrugged, grinning at the blond, "besides, he's really hot".

 

 

Bucky spent the next couple of hours with Steve, talking and sipping the coffee they'd managed to convince an intern to bring them (or, Steve had flirted his way into it, while Bucky sat there with shock and slight respect written all over his face). He would occasionally break conversation to type up on his laptop, biting on his thumb nail as he thought, which almost always led to Steve leaning over his shoulder and helping him pick out whatever the problem was. Which order which segments should go in, what should be cut and kept within reason, if his boss would approve. Pierce became a touchy subject for Steve, the blond male simple shrugging and mumbling something nonchalantly followed by an insult to break the thick ice that Pierce's very name seemed to create between them. Steve himself kept ending the conversation, trailing off every now and then to check his phone or take a call, but it wasn't once uncomfortable between them. The conversation seemed to flow, and when it was mostly silent except for the clicking of computer keys or the muffled hum of a voice on the phone, it was still a comfortable aura. It was nice, Bucky thought, being able to sit with someone and just enjoy their presence with no worry of how to keep the small talk going.

 

Between the two of them they managed to kill most of the afternoon, working and joking until Bucky's lunch break at two thirty, where they left to go and grab a couple of sandwiches from the Deli across the road. They sat on the stools by the window, praising the food and making a game out of assuming what citizens and shoppers were thinking. He'd learned small things about this man that was quickly becoming a friend, like the fact he hated onions on his sandwich and would only take his drink filled with ice. How the corner of his mouth twitched up if Bucky teased him, or how he'd rest his broad palm on the small of the brunet's back when he rocked his chair on it's legs which hilariously made Steve snap that "chairs were meant to stay on the floor". Like Bucky's mother would have. This led into a surprisingly long argument about the difference between stools and chairs, about different types of art (although Steve clearly knew way more than Bucky on this matter), about literature and movies and which was better, salted or sweetened popcorn?

 

By the time they got back to the office it was almost four, and while the plucky reporter knew Pierce was probably glaring at him behind his back for taking an extra twenty minutes for his lunch break he didn't care. He felt...kind of lighter around Steve, not as if his problems had been lifted because that seemed ridiculous, but as if he had someone helping him bare the load. It was like a silent conversation amongst them, this message that read "okay, I haven't known you long at all and you barely know me. But you're smart and you're fun and I know you know life can be harsh, so let's just take it by storm together". It seemed sappy, the very thought made Bucky blush, but he was starting to grow attached to how he felt right now. There was no bleak, ill feeling in his stomach, no shame or judgement. For a second, he pondered if this is what it felt like to have friends simply because, not because it was mutually beneficial to both parties.

 

By the time six rolled around Bucky had astonishingly managed to finish all of his research and planning for his next interview slot, and most of his article for Sunday morning was written up and ready to be sent to Pierce for approval. Steve slipped his chair close, resting his hand on Bucky's thigh after patting it, a friendly gesture. "Hey, i know you're probably sick of having me hang around, but why don't we go get a few beers?" He offered, sucking on his own bottom lip as he tilted his head, looking at Bucky in thought as he spoke "could always leave my car here and drive it home in the morning, call a cab so we don't have to watch what we drink...what d'you say?".

 

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, the strands had slowly been slipping out of the well worn elastic for a while now, but he was too lazy to retie the simple bun. Steve reached out, tucking a piece behind his ear, fingers lingering as he met the reporters' eyes. "I uh, yeah. Yeah that sounds..." Bucky breathed, smiling shakily as he focused his gaze fleetingly around the room, "i'll grab my coat". Steve beamed, seeming to hesitate prior to leaning in and placing a small, gentle kiss to Bucky's cheek. This was it, this was the only problem the great Sergeant Barnes had with this scenario. He could sit and speak to Steve all day, ignore how attractive he was or make gun of his perfection, his title. But when the blond let his walls down, it pulled Bucky's down by default. He was semi-relieved when Steve excused himself to phone a friend to pick up his car, giving Bucky a bashful smile as he admitted he didn't want to leave her here in this part of town over night. Bucky waved him away, letting him know no offence was taken.

 

He slipped on his coat and tucked his bag under his desk, deciding to leave it there for the night since it only held his laptop and a few stray papers and pens. Walking down to the parking lot he leaned against the cement wall and fished around in his jacket for a cigarette, slipping it between his lips and frowning as he lit it, realising he hadn't had one all day. He'd simply forgotten the cravings around Steve. Admittedly, the first inhale made him groan, tipping his head back and holding onto the poisonous smoke longer than usual before he let it go. When he straightened up to watch the door for Steve's exit he spotted Natasha, jogging over without a thought and feeling bad when she jumped as he got closer. "Bucky! Fuck, you scared me you idiot" she breathed, sliding on her gloves and not looking at him, eyeing the bus stop across the road to see if hers was there yet. Habitual for her, but she wasn't usually startled. Bucky frowned as he looked down at his friend, resting a hand on her arm, "Hey, Nat. You're okay right? What did Pierce want today? You've not been fired have you? God, I _told_ you not to be so flippant when you talk with him".

 

Natasha licked her dry lips, tugging her hood over her flawless burgundy hair to keep the wind away from it, "I haven't been fired" she said calmly. This made the reporter's face scrunch up in confusion, stepping in front of her since she wouldn't look at him properly. "I don't understand, if he didn't wanna fire you then why drag you in his office? Was it a warning or somethin', Nat. Because you gotta take that seriously, Christ. I don't know what I'd do if you didn't turn up one day and I had to sit next to some slack eyed fuck-", "No, James. He just wanted to talk to me about a story". He was starting to get a little flustered, annoyed that she seemed to be trying to put him off. This wasn't his Natasha, she was always so zen and open. She tried to walk away but Bucky stopped her, even though he knew full well she could snap him in two if she liked. "Nat, come on, just tell me. I'm a big boy" he said firmly, clenching his jaw.

 

"Pierce wants me to cover a story, a story I knew you'd get mad about. It's...when you kept bugging him about serious topics I guess it made him think, and he's decided to let me head a big one, Buck. This could be major for my career" she said, smiling widely, letting some of her excitement show even if she looked at Bucky like a kicked puppy. "What is it then? I mean, come on. You know him, he doesn't change, if he's sending you away it's to rub it in my face. Tell me you didn't say yes" he said, voice laced with a humourless chuckle, but to someone who knew him as well as Natasha she could hear to pleading in his voice. Swallowing thickly she looked him in the eye, cupping his jaw with her leather gloved hands.

 

 

"It's Afghanistan. Boss wants me to go for a month, cover the small wars and riots that are starting to break out there in the villages again. This could be _huge_ Buck, you've lived this. It's just on the boarders of Kandahar, this-this could be huge for me, James" she sighed, "I said yes, i'm leaving in a week".


	4. Harmful truths & helpful drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's your name?" He asked, gesturing to the guys shirt as if he should have had a name tag. The bartender grinned, turning around and pointing to the back of the shirt where it read _"Agent_ _Clint"_ in big letters. Huh, he didn't know how he missed that. "Pretty good way to keep track of bar staff" he said sourly, glad when this Clint guy laughed with him and not at him. "You're tellin' me, hey dude you want another?" He offered politely. 
> 
>  
> 
> Bucky smirked, twirling his glass in hand before handing it over, looking this guy dead in the eyes with the first burst of confidence he'd had in a good long while. "Clint, my boy" he said in a thick nineteen forties mobster accent, "we're gonna have a swell night".
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> Or, the one where Clint saves Bucky's ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo doggy, I can't believe I spat out another chapter today. And it's LONGER! Christ, I know barely anyone reads my stuff but this makes me proud, like i've actually achieved something today. 
> 
> Anyways, enough about me. Remember, i am my own beta and I didn't have time to proof read this so i am sorry for any mistakes. Please try and wnjoy it, as always open to criticisms and ideas (for this story or for others/one shots etc), hones my writing skills. I hope all of you are still on nreak, like i am, but i highly doubt it so if you are back at college or work of school i am sorry for you my friends. 
> 
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> Have a great night and remember, you are not a unique and beautiful snowflake ❄️ :)
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> ________________________________________________

Sometimes time goes by faster than you can bare to watch, it zips past you like a flash, and you're left wondering what the hell happened. And other times, it drags. It's so slow you don't know if you're breathing, if you're heart is still beating, you only know you're alive because of the thrumming in your ears so excruciatingly loud it feels like everybody can hear it in a five mile radius. 

 

This is what it felt like to Bucky. 

 

After what seemed like an eternity of standing still, frozen in place by the shock of her words with a gaping mouth and goose bumps on his exposed neck and hands, wind seeming to hit his sensitive skin a lot harder now, Bucky blinked. "W-What?" He stuttered, backing up a few paces and tucking his hands into his tight leather pants pockets, "what the...you're gonna take this job? What the _fuck_ , Natasha?!". 

 

She tapped her foot, looking anywhere on his face but his eyes. "Look, Bucky i'm sorry, I'm sorry okay? But do you have any idea what this could mean for me, what it could _do_ for me as a reporter?" She asked, voice clearly strained from the conversation, "I'm sorry, really, but you haven't made it easy for boss to warm up to you". Bucky shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair and snapping the elastic back onto his wrist, ignoring her when she tried to reach out for him and turning away from her as he paced in circles in the dark parking lot. 

 

"I don't believe this, you hated him this morning, Nat. You fucking despised him more than I did and now you're suddenly on his side?" He yelled, stopping still with a scrape of his boots on the gravel and glaring at her over his shoulder, "and I good reporter doesn't jump through hoops for asswipe showmen who only do it to hurt their friends". 

 

Natasha reeled on him, pushing a lock of hair away from her mouth and tucking it behind her ear. "I'm not taking his side, Bucky! I'm doing this for you, you said you wanted this station to cover better news, _real_ news-", "don't pretend you're doing this for me! You're doing this for yourself, everything you do benefits you, so don't stand there high and mighty!". Bucky flinched when the red head aimed a solid blow to his jaw, making him grunt and lock his foot in place behind her knee, dragging her down to the floor. Now normally, he wouldn't lay a hand on a girl. But Natasha was no girl, she was his best friend, his fighter. The rules of sex and gender didn't apply when they fought, and never had. But it still made him feel like a bad person, even as she pushed herself up without a scratch flawlessly. 

 

"I have done everything, everything for you James. I've been your defence squad since we were trainees, always helping you out, always there for you" she sighed, "can't you be there for me, just this once?". The brunet rubbed his palms over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked her dead in the eye. "I'm always there for you, but this..." He cut off, shaking his head. 

 

His voice was barely a whisper now, cracked like he'd just downed six shots of whiskey and a pack of smokes, "were you even going to tell me?". It was another one of those moments, those moments that were only amazing when the matter at hand was good, strong and beautiful. But this itself was ugly, Bucky's best friend in the world was about to take off for a month on his dream assignment, and he wanted to know if she cared enough to have even told him. 

 

When Natasha finally spoke up, it was the only time she had ever sounded defeated, it hurt Bucky's heart to hear it but something tasted acidic in his throat. Burning him from the inside out, it wasn't really anger, even if he masked it as that. Bucky had felt anger, it was hot and fleeting, this left a bad taste in his mouth that made his face scrunch up, this was betrayal. It was like he could see it on slow motion, on repeat, the only thing that stuck in his head in that moment was how Natasha's lethal red lips wrapped around the single word. "No".

 

As dramatic as it sounds, Bucky stumbled back like it was a physical blow, crafting his face in to the best yet weakest smile he could have at this point. "That's great, Romanova, really great" he murmured, clearing his throat. "Bucky, please. I didn't want to hurt you, I thought it'd be easier if you didn't find out until after I was gone" she explained, stepping towards him, arms outstretched to embrace him. He flinched back, missing the pain that ran across her features as he did so. "Buck..." She whispered, her bottom lip trembling and Bucky had never seen her cry, not once. He couldn't bare it, couldn't be the cause of it. "It's fine, really" he smiled, "enjoy your trip, Romanova. Do me proud". 

 

Bucky didn't look back, didn't spare a thought to anything other than that he had to keep walking, he had to. Ignoring the wet tracks he could feel on his cheeks when the wind cooled his tears he wiped his sleeve across his nose grossly, speeding up just to get away. He didn't stop until he walked right into someone, bumping shoulders roughly in a way that made his feet stutter on the path. "Hey, watch where you're going!" He hissed at the guy who looked at him frowning before shaking his head and walking off. Bucky cupped his hands around his mouth, getting on tip toes as he yelled at the man's receding back across the street, "Dick!". 

 

He was being cruel and irrational, distancing himself from the semi decent guy he usually was. He was being childish, but he felt like he needed it to block out that image imprinted on his brain. His best friend, his strong as steel and hard as nails best friend, stood there with the wind whipping her hair around and her bottom lip trembling as she reached out for someone who was already leaving. The reporter shook himself, looking up at the bright street lights where he was standing, taking note of the bar the man he'd bumped into probably came from. He wanted a drink like all hell, craved it after how today had turned out, and his default setting told him to consume enough liquor to put him in hospital when shit goes wrong. 

 

He remembered how happy he'd been this afternoon, drinking and eating and laughing with Steve...Steve, the one who invited him out for a drink and was probably waiting around outside Bucky's office feeling rejected, _Steve_. Bucky walked over to the entrance of the bar, softly hitting his head off the wall a couple of times and complaining to himself _"what have I gotten into?"_. He shrugged off away from the wall, tugging on the hem off his shirt so it wasn't tucked into his pants and popping open the top button, walking through the door and holding it open for a small gaggle if women. At least he still had some manners. 

 

The bar looked like an okay place to have a drink, the crowd was predominantly males so he could tell it wasn't a night club, just a tavern. They had booths along the side and small round wooden tables with chairs dotted around the place. The walls were white, nothing to sing home about, a few photos of famous people and bar knick knacks hanging on the wall like snooker cues and sports shirts. Bucky smiled softly at the promise of alcohol, walking over to the bar and rapping his knuckles on the solid oak of it. 

 

The bartender lifted his chin in Bucky's direction and he ordered a scotch, neat, ignoring the quirked eyebrow. He slipped into a stool at the bar as he waited, watching the dark haired bartender serve a few other patrons. He'd clearly been in the business a while, serving up drinks left right and centre and non of that fake smile what-can-I-get-you crap. The brunet found himself watching closely, cataloguing details like he did sometimes when he people watched. 

 

The bartender wore a simple black muscle shirt and stone washed jeans, a white apron tied around his waist with pockets for loose tips and bottle openers and such. He had black hair but Bucky could see it was dyed, chestnut brown and some blond strands peeking out of the top of his head. He looked toned, muscled but not with huge arms or thighs like the guys at the Gym on 5th, but it was clear he was healthy. The lines around his mouth and eyes made him look much older than Bucky guessed he was, realising it was probably down to hard work. 

 

He nodded in appraisal, his mind telling him that this guy was decent. When his drink was slipped over to him on a green serviette he smiled, tossing the guy a twenty and telling him to keep the change. He decided he liked it here, nobody was trying too hard to get a hook up. Some guys were at the back, drinking pints of beer and watching the football game, others bent over the four tables near the back left as they took their shot on the pool table. Smirking, Bucky noticed the small pile of notes and change building up in the middle on the fake green grass of it. 

 

He sipped his drink, eyes travelling to the television above the counter of the bar, watching the game until the bartender grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels. When he passed by the discovery channel and saw a lion mounting a lioness a bunch of the guys at the bar started laughing, making Bucky roll his eyes and smirks when the bartender tossed a wet cloth at the group and told them to shut it playfully. Yeah, he liked this guy. Barnes' eyes honed back in on the screen, frowning when the fraction of a second of static took away the image and moved on to some documentary about fishing. "Hey" Bucky called, smiling softly when the bartender turned to face him, "could you go back a few channels? Thanks yeah- right there, that one". 

 

The man looked at Bucky in curiosity, while Bucky stared at the television. It was the re tun of his interview with Steve. He watched how Captain America subtly touched him, grazing his hand, drinking his coffee. If it weren't for the fact he'd experienced it, he wouldn't be able to tell that Steve had winked at him in that moment as the camera failed to capture it. He huffed out a small laugh fondly, resting his arms on the bar until Pierce came on screen and grasped Bucky's shoulder. Even he could see the wince, although he'd thought he'd hid it from the camera men.

 

"That's you, right?" The bartender asked, pulling him back to reality. Bucky nodded solemnly, taking a large gulp of his drink, "huh. Kinda vein to watch yourself on tv, Buddy" he teased. Bucky rested his hand on his cheek, finishing the last of his drink with a groan, making his teeth grit at the harsh taste but it warmed a nice path down his throat. "That'll warm the cockles of your heart, that stuff" the barman jested, eyes trained on Bucky's glass. 

 

"What's your name?" He asked, gesturing to the guys shirt as if he should have had a name tag. The bartender grinned, turning around and pointing to the back of the shirt where it read _"Agent_ _Clint"_ in big letters. Huh, he didn't know how he missed that. "Pretty good way to keep track of bar staff" he said sourly, glad when this Clint guy laughed with him and not at him. "You're tellin' me, hey dude you want another?" He offered politely. 

 

Bucky smirked, twirling his glass in hand before handing it over, looking this guy dead in the eyes with the first burst of confidence he'd had in a good long while. "Clint, my boy" he said in a thick nineteen forties mobster accent, "we're gonna have a swell night".

 

Around eleven pm Bucky's night seemed to have come to an unfortunate yet inevitable end. He'd had four neat scotches, three brandies with ice and a round of shots some big shot bought for everyone at the bar after getting a raise at work. Lucky bastard. Bucky was slurring at this point, giggling at random objects and fiddling with the television remote he'd kept grabbing from Clint's work apron until he eventually just gave him the _damn_ thing to play with, calling him a **pissed** **up** **toddler**. He'd cut Bucky off a half hour ago but the brunet kept trying to swipe him twenties for one more beer, "just _one_ more, Clint, please. Promise it's my last". 

 

Eventually Clint groaned, tapping some random blonde guy built like a brick shit house on the shoulder and whispering something in the dim bar. The man nodded, glancing at Bucky and shaking his head with a smirk as he walked behind the bar and took Clint's place. "Have a nice night, buddy" he'd said to Bucky, saluting him goodbye. What was with everyone calling him Buddy around here? But Bucky was too buzzed to care, sliding off his chair and stumbling, sticking his hand in the air and waving it vigorously, almost hitting someone carrying a round of beers to their table. 

 

"Thank you, my good sir!" He chuckled, not noticing how Clint wrapped an arm around his shoulders to steer him out of the bar and away from the chance of getting pummelled like a barrel of crushed plums, doing finger guns and fake "pew pew!" Noises in the direction of the new bartender as he left. The guy just laughed and went to grab a Captain Morgan for a customer. 

 

Clint managed to get him outside unharmed, walking around the corner supporting a lot more of Bucky's weight than the brunet would admit in the morning if he remembered. He sat him down on a small bench, making Bucky frown and glance around, realising that there were a few sets of oak benches and tables with used glass ashtrays in the centre lined up outside for people that didn't want to deal with the hustle and the bustle of inside. 

 

"Alright, Barnes" Clint said firmly, kneeling down in front of him and finally taking the remote off him before tucking it back in his apron, "you need to get home and sleep this off, you hear? Have you got someone who can take you home safely, because no offence sweetypie, but I ain't letting you get behind a wheel tonight". Bucky thought, blowing raspberries by sticking the tip of his tongue between his lips, giggling when it made his lips vibrate and tickle. He shook his head, tucking his hair behind his ears. It was a simple gesture, it didn't give him the tingles like when Steve did it. He missed Steve. 

 

"Bucky? Come on, stay with me pal" Clint groaned, slapping Bucky's cheek lightly, making the other smile at him. "I don't think, no" he said, nodding like he was a thousand percent certain and like it was a positive, "nobody to take me home. Cab, I could get...yeah! Yeah, Clint, Clint are you listening? Clint!". Clint just laughed, scrubbing a hand over his face and tapping Bucky's knee with his hand, "yeah big guy, i'm listening".

 

"Clint, take me home" he said, feeling his cheeks flame as soon as he said it. Sure, the man in front of him was attractive and probably knew how to make it good in the sack, but Bucky couldn't find himself wanting to be with anyone at the moment. Or at least, not many people. He simply meant someone to take him home safely, maybe keep him company. Luckily, Clint seemed to get the idea, holding both hands up in a mock surrender. 

 

"Listen up, you're a cute guy. But for one, you're wasted. I don't touch anybody wasted, my momma raised me right. And two, i'm straight, sweetypie" he grinned, clearly making a joke out of the situation, "look, i'll get you a cab. Where do you live? I don't trust your instructive skills right now". Bucky opened his mouth the speak, watching someone on the bench across from them, head tilted down toward their phone in deep concentration. When the man glanced up to check how much beer was left in his bottle, Bucky knew who it was. He would notice those stunning, vibrant blue eyes anywhere. "Steve!" He cried out, trying to stand up from the bench.

 

"What? Steve ain't a place, Barnes. Come on, sit down, I need you to try and think for me here" he sighed, but Steve had already heard him, tucking his phone away and abandoning his beer as he walked over. "Bucky?" He asked incredulously, hands tucked into his pockets as if he felt self conscious in this moment in time, "what're you doing here? I was just trying to get a hold of you again, I thought...never mind, are you okay?". Steve seemed to notice Clint for the first time, eyeing him up, and the way his face seemed to turn to stone in a split second sent a thrill through Bucky. "Is this guy bothering you?" He asked clearly, pointing his thumb at Clint. 

 

Clint straightened up to seize up Steve and Bucky stumbled to his feet, practically collapsing against the blonde's chest, "Stevie no, no he's helping. He's tryina get me home" he slurred, clearly thinking he'd cleared up the situation. Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky's shoulders and squeezed in a way that seemed practically possessive, turning to glare at Clint who just shook his head. "Hey, man no. He's wasted, it's not how it sounds" he chuckled, "your boy here came in for a drink, lookin' pretty down on his luck. He had a few, and then a few two many. We got talkin' and then when he almost antagonised a seven foot behemoth into a fight by being so clumsy, I brought him out here".

 

Steve must have saw something honest in Clint's eyes because his posture immediately relaxed, although he kept the protective arm around Bucky. "Oh" he breathed, making Clint cross his arms over his chest to fend off the night air and nod, "yeah. Just been tryin' to get his address out of him, or at least someone who can take him home. Don't want him wandering the streets and gettin' hurt, you know?". Steve smiled, glancing down at Bucky and smiling fondly, "yeah. I know, thank you but I think I can take him home from here". Clint turned to walk away but stopped, narrowing his eyes, "just to make sure...hey, hey Barnes. You trust this guy, right?". 

 

Both of them seemed to lock gaze on Bucky, who pouted out his bottom lip, tracing small circle patterns against the material of Steve's shirt as he thought. "It's Steve" he said simply, "everybody should have a Steve, Steve's good people". That seemed to be good enough for the bartender though because he shrugged at the blonde's quirked eyebrow. He turned to head back into the tavern but Steve tapped his shoulder, fiddling around trying to hold Bucky against his side and tugging out a fifty dollar bill, handing it to Clint sleekly between two fingertips.

 

"For helping him out" he explained, "don't know many people that would have done that". Clint tried to refuse, saying it's fine but Steve just waved the money at him, "please" he murmured as he looked down at Bucky who was idling away his time poking at each of Steve's shirt buttons with a small " _boop_ " noise, "it's important to me". 

 

Clint eventually gave in, sliding the crinkled piece of paper into his now liquor soaked apron with a thanks, wishing them a safe trip home before heading inside. Steve sat Bucky back down on the bench, ignoring the fact that the gravel was wet with rain storm that had started up at seven and only ended about an hour ago, kneeling down and cupping Bucky's cheeks. He tipped his face up so he could meet his eyes, Steve dragging his tongue along his lower lip to dampen them in a way that made something in Bucky's stomach coil. 

 

"Buck, can you tell me what happened? I waited for you, when i finished my phone call you were't by the car and I got worried, I got your number from the office. Why didn't you pick up?" He asked softly, making Bucky turn his face into Steve's hand, nuzzling it gently and leaving a soft sloppy kiss to the pad of his thumb. "Left it at the office, I think. Not sure" he spoke quietly, fingers circling Steve's wrist delicately as he pushed his luck, sucking on his thumb lightly and rubbing his tongue over warm skin. Steve was always so warm. He tilted his head to the side, really looking at Steve since they'd met. He was so pretty, so insanely stunning it messed with Bucky's head, he reminded Bucky of a Grecian God, carved out of white, smooth marble. 

 

He tried to say so but he just mumbled something ineloquent about "pretty marble" before going back to laving on Steve's thumb, making the other intake a shaky breath. "Bucky" he said softly, like he was speaking to a wounded animal as he gently pulled his hand away, "we need to get you home, I remember your address, want me to take you home?". Bucky shook his head, tucking his knees up on the bench and wrapping his arms around them. Usually he was an okay drunk, occasionally violent, but this? He'd never been a needy drunk, but he'd felt so hurt when he started drinking it must have recommenced over into his drunk self. 

 

"She's a bitch" he slurred, looking up at the sky with an exasperated noise, "she's so lucky, god she's a _bitch_ ". Steve frowned, clearly not having a clue what Bucky was talking about right now. He sat on the bench next to him, letting the brunet lean against him as he curled a hand in his hair, running his blunt nails over his scalp softly to placate him. It worked like a charm, Bucky purring and nuzzling his neck. Steve squeezed his eyes closed, clearly having some internal debate before he tugged gently on Bucky's hair to get him to stop. What he clearly hadn't expected was the thick, high moan to escape from the man's throat. Steve cleared his own throat, looking around at the fleeting looks they were getting before he stood up, slinging an arm around Bucky's waist and starting to lead him away. 

 

"Come on, i'll take you home" Steve promised, carefully carrying Bucky's dead weight across the street as if he weighed nothing, letting him lean against the passenger door of his car as he messed around in his pants pockets for his car keys. "You drank" Bucky said, face scrunched up as he tried to get his point across, "you can't drive and drive. I mean, you can't...you had beer, in your hand". Steve's lips parted before he smiled in understanding, shrugging it off as he unlocked the car, "I only had half a bottle, maybe less. I'm fine to drive. Come on, let's get you home". 

 

Steve tried to pull open the passenger door but Bucky was persistent as he leaned all his weight against it, the poor blond eventually ended up tickling the drunk's sides until he squirmed out of the way enough for Steve to open the door. He held Bucky's hand as he crawled in, leaning over him and buckling his belt in safely. Bucky let his head lull against the headrest, tracing a finger down the cut of Steve's cheekbone while he did up his belt for him. Steve turned his head, biting his bottom lip as he looked at his drunk friend before exhaling, placing a fleeting gentle kiss on his forehead, telling him to sit still for him. 

 

Once he knew the brunet was in the car safely he shut the door, walking around the vehicle and climbing into the drivers side, starting up the engine which came on with a vibrating purr. He looked up from sliding his own belt on to see Bucky giggling, closing his eyes as he rested his hands under his thighs on the seat. "What's so funny, sweetheart?" Steve inquired, making Bucky beam even wider at the fond pet name. "Cars are sexy" he giggled again, a little hiccup coming from his chest with this one, "she's a beauty, aren't you girl?" He said, patting the dashboard. The blond let out his own lilted laugh, resting a hand on Bucky's thigh as he looked at him quizzically, "she's not an animal, Buck. You're adorable, you know that?".

 

Steve pulled out of his parking space, one hand on the wheel and the other on Bucky's thigh. The brunet was silent for a few minutes, staring out the window until he pushed his leg up against Steve's hand using his foot. It didn't get his attention, probably thinking it was a nervous jitter of his leg or something. He did it again, harder, looking at Steve pleadingly when he finally captured his attention. "I wanna to go to yours" he said, biting on his thumb nail, "I want to, take me yours, Stevie". Steve squeezed his thigh to try and get him to relax, cooing some nonsense under his breath about "almost being there, baby, it's okay". 

 

Bucky pouted, pushing Steve's hand away and tucking his legs up as best he could on the seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Steve groaned and pulled the car up onto the curb, stopping for a minute and focusing solely on Bucky. He liked that, those wide baby blue eyes on him and only him, it made him want to preen. "Buck, why do you want to go to mine? You're drunk, you should rest at home" he argued, although his voice told Bucky he didn't really mean what he was saying, even in his drunk state. "I don't want to be alone" Bucky said under his breath, having to repeat it when Steve didn't hear, "I don't wanna be alone Stevie, I don't. I can't go home in the dark and be alone and think 'bout what she said and what I did...don't wanna. Can we just, please". 

 

Bucky unbuckled his belt, resting his legs in the footwell and taking Steve's hand nervously, placing it on his thigh. Steve watched with curious eyes, fingers flexing against his leather covered skin, making Bucky bite his lip hard enough to bring the blood to the surface, making them a deep shade of red that had Steve's eyes flitting between where his hand was and Bucky's mouth. "Please..." He whispered, looking at the blond from underneath heavy eyelashes as he rested his hand over Steve's (albeit was smaller), slowly dragging it up higher on the inside of his thigh. Steve made a thick, rough noise in the back of his throat and leaned closer, eyes glued to Bucky as if he were God himself. 

 

Bucky sank down in the seat so he could spread his legs further, arching his back and panting softly as he pushed up Steve's hand until his large palm was cradling the underside of Bucky's covered cock. The reporter watched as Steve squeezed his eyes closed, taking a deep breath even as his hand instinctively squeezed gently, Bucky aiding him as he rutted his hips forward. "Please, Stevie. I don't wanna be alone..." He slurred, letting his own eyes flutter closed as he pressed down on the back of Steve's hand firmer, rocking his hips forward to get even the slightest touch to his cock. Admittedly he'd been half hard since the bench, since Steve had protected him and cradled him and made him feel _special_ , as stupid as it sounded. 

 

Steve lips were less than an inch away now, his long golden lashes shifting as he blinked, his hot breath fanning out across Bucky's face. He leaned forward, brushing his lips over Steve's pouty bottom one, timidly flicking his tongue over it, sucking it gently into his mouth and nibbling. He let put a pathetically shaky whimper when he felt soft, full lips moving lightly with his own, a strange rhythm and simplicity to it that shouldn't have come with Bucky's drunk state. They started to kiss harder, bolder as Steve's free hand came up to curl in Bucky's hair, making the other gasp and part his lips habitually. Steve didn't hesitate, groaning as he slipped his tongue inside Bucky's mouth, holding him closer and taking control of the kiss as the hand on Bucky's crotch rubbed in harsh, slow circles. 

 

Bucky was a mess, cheeks flushed and hair fluffy from the humidity of the bar, in the front seat of his friend's car, pissed out of his mind with _that_. _mouth_ finally on his again and a firm hand on his cock. When he whispered Steve's name into the kiss the blond froze, seeming to remember where they were. He took in a deep breath to control himself as Bucky panted lightly, retracting his hands and rolling down the window for some fresh air. "Christ" he cursed, leaning his elbow on the window space, "we shouldn't, I shouldn't have. You're drunk, Bucky. I can't take advantage of that" he said finally. Bucky still felt buzzed but he'd definitely sobered up, the reality of what he'd done only half dawning on him right now. The only thing he could bring himself to say was what he'd been saying for most of the little journey they had taken; "take me to your place".

 

Steve rolled the window back up, not meeting Bucky's gaze as he started the car up and pulled back onto the road, driving a lot faster than he was before as if it would exert his frustration. "I'll take you to mine, sweetheart" he said, giving in completely, "if you don't want to be alone, i'll take you to mine. At least then I can make sure you don't vomit on yourself or something. But i'm not touching you, not when you're incapacitated". Bucky smiled, lacing his fingers with Steve's, rubbing his knuckles with his thumb. "You're good people, Steve, have I said that before?" He rambled, squirming and getting comfortable in his seat, "wish you could take care of me like this all the time, even if m' a mess".

 

Steve nodded, turning the car around the opposite way to head to his place, squeezing Bucky's fingers as he kept his eyes on the road. "Yeah" he breathed, glancing at the now half asleep drunk Bucky Barnes in his car, "me too, angel. Me too...".


	5. Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My explanation.

Hello guys,

I'll try to make this short as nobody likes a long Authors note. I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I feel I owe you an explanation (the few of you that actually enjoy my stuff). My mother's health has declined noticably and she needs constant care, even when it is not me it is my family, she is heavily medicated and struggles to walk and get up, drink eat etc because of her condition. She does not like taking her medication as she feels it makes her seem like she only wants attention, which is not true. We all love her, but caring for her has become a daily thing between all of us and seeing as I am one of the few that still lives at home it falls on me and my father to do it. Between making sure she is okay and the stress of completing my A-levels, trying to get into the University I want and looking for others incase I don't, as well as trying to keep ontop of my own health...it's become hard to get the creative juices flowing enough for me to write. I have the start of the next chapter on my computer, and it has been there for months now, my goal at the moment is to finish that. Small steps. While I can't promise anything, I will try and spit out small one shots or small chapter stories for you guys. I am still taking request, so feel free tp give me some, no matter how weird you think it os or the pairing. I'll be back as soon as I can, and I love all of you for even glancing at this story even though it is riddled with problems. Thank you, I hope you are doing well right now. 

Xxx


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